Luck Be A Lady
by Madly Eccentric Fan Fic
Summary: You know what they say about Vegas... Written for the March 2014 Madly Eccentric RP One Shot Challenge


Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

Luck is all relative. Good luck, bad luck. They're just words used to explain away how or why something happened. I could break my life down by the luck I've had. It doesn't explain everything, but it defines the path I've found myself on. And good or bad, changing anything that has happened to me, would change where I am.

My first memories were of chaos. I was passed through the foster system from birth. Some places were tolerable. Most were hell. Homes overrun by kids from tons of backgrounds, guardians just looking to squeeze out an extra buck from the government. My clothes never fit and were rarely clean. I learned early on that if I wanted to eat, I'd have to fight or steal my way to a meal. I'd been dealt a shitty hand since the day I was born. The only thing I could call good luck back then were my looks and build. I was a cute fucking kid. Made the foster parents willing to take me in despite my growing list of "issues", and I was always tall for my age. I could defend myself and the weaker kids from the other assholes I undoubtedly found myself up against. That was my luck.

When I was ten, I was sent to a farm. This was my first house outside of the ghetto and my favorite. There wasn't shit to do but it was quiet. For the most part I even got along with my guardians. The husband was quiet and grumpy, but I could more than handle that. No one beat me or touched me. Besides the loneliness, it was almost heaven. It was early Spring, the day he grumbled his way through asking if I'd ever shot a gun. I hadn't. I was ten. And thought this guy was nuts. But hunting was his thing and he had an impressive collection of rifles locked away in an upstairs room.

In retrospect, giving a ghetto street kid a rifle probably should have gotten me yanked from that placement. It didn't. And since I was occupied I didn't pull my usual shit to get myself kicked out. I took to hunting like it was second nature. The concentration, the quiet, then the exhilaration of pulling the trigger and watching the target fall was a rush unlike anything I'd ever felt. And I was good. Over the next two years I'd spent on that farm, I'd learned to handle everything from handguns to semis. And the old man beamed at me with a pride I'd never seen directed at me before. I'll never forget the late Fall day when I bagged a six point buck. A rare smile graced my faced as I turned to the laughing old man as he came up and thumped me on the back. Twelve years old and in that moment, I knew I'd never been happier. In the next moment a feeling of dread filled me. Seeing the sedan with the DHS sticker on the side of the car pull up the dirt drive, I knew my time here was over. We'd never stash the guns, change out of the camo and hide the kill in time.

As angry resignation suffused me, I clenched my fists, and ground my molars. I'd let the hope that I'd finally caught a break take hold only to have it ripped mercilessly from my grasp. I was exhausted. Fed up and tired of being shifted around, up rooted and pawned off on the next low life looking for a quick buck. As I hugged, actually hugged, my guardians goodbye, I made a decision. I wouldn't be a ward of the system anymore. I'd let the social worker take me to my 'new home', this was the only place that had ever felt close to one, then I was gone. So that's what I did. Just hitting puberty, but already over five and a half feet tall, no foster home would want me now. They called it placement. I called it jail. It was basically a halfway house. With very little freedom aside from school, activities or a job, I did everything I could to be there the least amount of time as possible. I did odd jobs in the neighborhood after school, hiding every cent I earned from the other assholes I lived with. I always carried all my belongings with me, meager as they were, and the day I earned enough for my bus ticket, I was out.

One way to Vegas, luckiest place on earth, right? For me, there was no better place to get lost on the streets. I had street smarts and a new skill set that had me surviving if only barely. I started small. Getting my hands on a gun, I started mugging drunks in the downtown, seedier part of town. I got by. Hit my own jackpots every now and again too. By the time I was sixteen, I was straight up cocky. Started working my own crew on the strip. I had a guys on the streets pulling bribes while others stuck to the alleys and muggings. The underage girls I hung with worked the stip clubs and doubled as pick pockets. We all stuck together crashing out in different abandoned buildings hidden in different pockets of town. I did my best to watch everyone's back, in return for a cut of their earnings. It wasn't perfect, but we had a good system worked out.

The night my life changed forever, I was sitting with the boys fucking around and playing cards in the basement of an abandoned restaurant. The boom of the steel back door being kicked in had my gun clearing the holster as the shouting started. I flipped the folding table, ducking behind it as the room was swarmed with big dudes decked out in black from head to foot. The men, taking up position, scanned as I trained my gun on the still opened doorway. The guys in black secured my boys as the noise settled. Steadying my hand, I kept my breathing level, the only sound being the clack of dress shoes on the linoleum in the hall. Gun trained, my eyes flared when Triton Vendetti stepped up to fill the doorway. I knew who he was. Everyone in the underground did. He ran this town. My mind spun trying to figure out what I or my people had done to get noticed by him. His attention was the last thing I wanted. People Triton paid attention to had a habit of disappearing soon after. I knew this, but even so, I met his eyes down the barrel of my gun. For what felt like hours but was barely minutes he stared. Then he laughed. My teeth ground as he dismissed me as no possible threat, and fuck if that didn't bruise the fragile ego I'd built over the past couple of years. As he entered the room like he owned it, I lowered my gun, following the unspoken rule not to front if I wasn't going to use it. Right now, I was too scared, confused and intrigued to do anything more than watch. Reholstering my piece, my brows rose almost imperceptibly as I thought I saw the glint of approval in Triton's eyes. Couldn't be. Obviously someone had pissed him off or he wouldn't be here. Whatever it was, as their leader the oweness fell on me.

He strolled around the room, hands tucked into the pockets of his suit that, no doubt, cost more money than I'd seen in my life, like he didn't have a care in the world. But I knew better. A man like that radiated power and owned every room he entered. As he made the rounds eyeing each of the boys his men had either pinned or restrained, he began to speak. He listed the names of each and what jobs they'd had a hand in as well as the names of those not present. Triton had done his homework and done it well. That, or I had a snitch. Eyes narrowing imperceptibly as I watched, my heart rate sped up with every deed he mentioned. As the excuses began churning in my mind, one thought branded itself in the forefront. I. Was. Fucked.

When he came to a stop in front of me, giving me a long assessing look, I swallowed past the lump threatening to choke off my airway. His smile was cold, eyes frozen. It was that of a predator assessing his prey and it was fixed on me. I thought it was the last face I'd see, and didn't that just suck. He asked questions about my 'operation' he called it. It was all I could do to steel my spine, stand straight and answer. I told him everything he wanted to know. Not like I had a fucking choice. Like his little show had demonstrated, if I didn't tell him, he'd find out. After a long time he fell silent, still watching me with those too knowing eyes. When he slung an arm around my shoulders, I flinched and gasped in a shocked breath. As he pulled me to walk with him, without opportunity to do otherwise, he told me he was going to make me an offer I couldn't refuse. Yes, he actually said that. I glanced at the boys as we left, giving a slight shrug. Fuck I hoped they'd be ok.

As Triton ushered me to a sleek black limo at the end of the alley, windows tinted as dark as the car, I sucked in grateful gulps of fresh air, not caring about the stench of garbage. I didn't know where the fuck this was headed, but it was clear I had no control of the situation. He offered me a drink in the back of the pimped out ride. I took a bottle of water that cost more money than my kicks. As much as I could have used a shot, I needed my head in the game. On the road to who the fuck knew where, Triton outlined his offer. Hostile take over was more like it. He explained that he'd had eyes on my crew since we'd, unbeknownst to me, made a name for ourselves turning a profit with low to no notice from the cops and only the necessary violence. He was right. I prided myself on that. My crew played dirty, but they played smart. If they didn't, I dealt with them. My system had worked thus far. Too well apparently. The big dog knew who we were. As he praised my work, he laid out his plans. He wanted me to work for him. No more small street games, I was getting called to the big leagues, he cut me off when I started to voice objections about my people being taken care of. In exchange for my working for him, he'd do what he could for them. Hire some of the boys for his scrub jobs, put the girls in one of his clubs. He made sure I knew, and would relay to them, that this wasn't a meal ticket, they'd still have to work. But already I could see his offer would do more for them than I ever could. When I asked what I would have to do, he flashed me that smile again and said "security". The rest of the ride was a barrage of questions about my past. When I mentioned my shooting skills, the response was a fat cat grin, completely different from the predatory smile he flashed before. I could only guess that this pleased him. That didn't ease my mind at all. Triton was known for his ruthlessness but also his loyalty to his people. I knew this was an opportunity I couldn't pass up. No matter the cost. A kid like me didn't get this chance more than once in a lifetime.

As the car pulled through a gated drive, I let out a low whistle, sure that my eyes were bugging out of my head. It looked like one of those swanky private schools I'd seen in movies. My head snapped to Triton when he warned of the show of faith he was giving by bringing me to his private home. Nodding in shocked agreement, I remember looking at the house and for the first time wondering if my future held a place for me among all this opulence. I followed numbly through the front doors, handing over my piece and my pocket blade to the security guard in the huge open foyer. My eyes ate up every inch of the marble, crystal and decor. As the shock ebbed, it registered that for a Vegas mob boss this place seemed kind of...girlie. Just as the thought crossed my mind there was a high pitched shreek from somewhere at the top of the grand double staircase followed by several different feminine laughs. "Damn, Triton kept more than a few girls," I thought to myself as a smirk crossed my lips. Grunting as I felt the hard contact at the back of my head, I rubbed my skull as Triton walked past me grumbling about his daughters as if he knew where my thoughts had gone. Offering a sheepish apology, I fell into step behind him. He lead us to a long formal dining room and all I could do was shake my head in disbelief at the grandeur that extended seemingly throughout the house. He pointed me to a seat to the left of his at the head of the table. I sat dumbfounded as the first thoughts that I had bitten off more than I could chew crossed my mind. Triton was rattling off a list of names I barely heard, saying something about getting to know them as my job could possibly require contact with his...seven daughters? Shiiiittt. As if on cue the room began to fill. I shrank in my seat, not a small feat for my almost six foot frame. Damn. They were all stunners. Most a few years younger than me but you could tell they'd be beauties too. No wonder Triton was so brutal. The older two met my eyes with suspicious curiosity as they greeted their father with hugs. The younger ones shouting greetings from the other end of the table as they yapped away. Then she sat across from me. The one with the blue hair. I'd be damned if I'd ever seen a more gorgeous creature in my life. Triton stood and silence fell.

He repeated the names again pointing to each girl in turn. Once he pointed to the blue haired beauty mentioning her name was Aquata, the rest fell on deaf ears. Meeting her eyes, I offered a hesitant smile, to which she turned her head, nose in the air. I dropped my gaze to my lap so I didn't give in and stare. I only looked up and nodded politely, offering my best attempt at a polite hello when he introduced me as Flounder, his newest employee. I blamed the overwhelming turn my night and life had taken for the reason of my temporary insanity in thinking this princess might give me a second look. Didn't matter though. That's not what I was here for. I was being given the chance of a lifetime to make something of my measly existence. No way I would fuck that up over a piece of tail. Especially not with the boss's daughter no matter how gorgeous she was. Even so, if I got to steal a few glimpses of her in my new career, I'd count myself lucky.


End file.
